


Dirty Housekeeping

by sarapunzel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Sabriel - Freeform, Sub!Sam, blowjob, dom!gabe, samgabe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarapunzel/pseuds/sarapunzel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel is full of surprises, so it shouldn't really come as a huge shock when Sam wakes up in a foreign environment, dressed head-to-toe like a sexy French maid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Housekeeping

There were both ups and downs to being the “romantically codependent but spatially unattached” human boyfriend of a flighty, impulsive archangel. On the one hand, Gabriel could conjure just about whatever the hell Sam wanted out of thin air— whether it was a cobb salad or a beach house complete with a water slide and jacuzzi. On the other hand, Gabe had the tendency to make Sam beg for these things first, on hands and knees, often with a cock in his mouth. Even worse were the supposed freebies Gabriel offered up, with a wily wink and a casual “You can pay me back later.” Those transactions usually came due at the most inopportune times, like in the middle of a meeting or when Sam was just about to drift off to sleep. Payment ranged anywhere from a simple back massage to a marathon game of Monopoly (which Gabriel always, always won).

Then there was the fact that Gabriel was gone a lot of the time. He was simply too antsy to stay in one place for very long. He was away for days, even weeks at a time, during which he was almost impossible to contact. Sam usually just had to hope that Gabe was tuning in to his prayers. It wasn’t that Sam worried the angel might be out cavorting around the universe with some new pretty face; he’d long abandoned the idea of monogamy with Gabriel. The world was a giant candy store, and Gabe had a mean sweet tooth. Besides, Sam refused to allow himself to get jealous. This wasn’t exactly the serious relationship he’d hoped for; there wasn’t much hope for the pair of them to settle down and get a mortgage anytime soon, or ever.

No, what was infinitely worse was that with Gabriel gone, the apartment was too quiet, too empty. Every day was as predictable and dull as the previous. The bed was unnaturally cold without Gabe tossing and turning and muttering in his sleep about luckdragons and unicorns. (Sam wished he could see into the angel’s dreams just for a second; he was convinced Gabriel took acid every night before bed.) Gabriel called these periods of separation “recuperation time”— as if Sam was simply unable to keep up with him for too long. But for Sam, there was no recuperating. Instead, it was rather draining, constantly checking the clock and finding ways to waste time before the angel returned.

Still, the absolute shit end of the dating-a-former-Trickster-god bargain had to be the haphazard way in which Gabriel tossed Sam into bizarre, often dangerous situations every now and then just for the sheer delight of watching the hunter squirm. Sam never knew if he was going to fall asleep in his own bed and wake up in 1776 on the stoop of Ben Franklin’s house. (Really, Sam should have seen this one coming; he’d made the stupid and rare decision to go to bed completely nude because it was laundry day. If he’d known Ole Ben would be far more interested in Sam’s thunder stick than his own lightning rod, Sam would have taken a moment to wrap himself in his bed sheet before following the dirty old pervert into his house.)

Sam had been living under a perpetual cloud of dread for the past week after convincing Gabe to mojo his car’s engine back to working condition. The angel had stickied a Post-It note to Sam’s chest that read “U O ME” in block letters, then poofed away to wherever the hell Gabriel usually went during “recuperation time”. Sam knew payment would come due any day now, but he’d never anticipated just what sort of bill he’d be paying.

As it turned out, Gabriel was now accepting Sam’s dignity as a form of currency.

 

Sam Winchester was not accustomed to the sensation of lace around his naughty bits. He’d never had the occasion to experiment with it. Of course, he’d thought about it, idly, during excruciatingly boring days in the passenger seat of the Impala. But imagining himself in a pair of lacy panties was a far, far cry from waking up to find himself strapped and corseted into a black and white French maid ensemble, complete with petticoats, fishnet stockings, and garters.

“Oh, this is just sick,” Sam grumbled.

After Sam had done a full sweep of his person (in case Gabe had to decided to chop off a limb or add a tail just for kicks), he surveyed his surroundings. He was lying not on his own rickety mattress but on a sort of gilded chaise, in an ornate little room he’d never seen before. Sam sat up and wriggled to the edge of the seat, then stood up and immediately toppled over.

Even in his most outlandish daydreams, Sam had never once considered how uncomfortable it must be to stand in five-inch pumps. It was, unsurprisingly, the most awkward and painful turmoil his poor feet had ever been through. Nothing he’d been taught in his many years as a hunter could have possibly prepared him for the challenge of walking in heels. He hiked up his leg to try and unfasten the awful contraptions, only to find that the delicate clasps were entirely too tiny for his huge fingers to maneuver. He let out a frustrated groan and promptly abandoned the endeavor for the time being.

Besides, it was more important for Sam to track down Gabriel and kick his ass, then alternately threaten and plead with him until he restored Sam to his natural state of being (read: plaid, boxers, and boots). He crossed the room slowly, clinging to the furniture to keep from falling. When he passed a mirror and caught sight of the satiny black cap on his head, he gasped, swore, and moved to swipe the offending object away. Only, it didn’t fall to the floor as expected. Sam’s hand merely clutched at the empty air, as though something was deflecting his aim.

“GABRIEL!” Sam bellowed, limping through the doorway. “I know you’re here! This isn’t fucking funny! I look like Mrs. Potts!”

Sam heard the crisp click of fingers snapping together and then a familiar peal of laughter. He glared down the hallway at the angel, but Gabe was doubled over laughing so hard he could hardly breathe. Although, Sam reminded himself, Gabriel didn’t really need to breathe anyway.

“How’re those heels workin’ for you, Sammy?” the archangel choked out, still bent over with his hands on his knees. Sam growled, fidgeting with the hem of his skirt.

“I swear to God if you don’t fix this right now I will chop off your dick and mail it to Lucifer,” Sam spat.

“Whoa, whoa, kiddo! No need to drag my dad into this and certainly no need to involve The Horn of Truth,” Gabriel replied, gesturing to his crotch with a flourish. “Not yet, at least.”

“Gabe, come on. I think my ass is chafing.”

Gabriel snorted. “Well, we can’t have that, can we? I happen to like that ass.”

“This—it’s enchanted, right? I can’t take it off. So what’s the game here?” Sam demanded, leaning on the railing of the spiral staircase. Gabe came forward and produced a feather duster from thin air.

“Play your part,” the angel instructed, thrusting the feather duster into Sam’s unwilling hands. “You’re gonna be my slutty little housekeeper!”

Sam scoffed. “What? So you want me to dust the whole house or something? In these shoes?” Sam verified incredulously. The angel nodded slowly, then tapped his chin with a finger, appearing to reconsider.

“Well. You could do that. Or you could just bend over and let me help you out of that sleazy outfit,” Gabriel said, looking Sam up and down as greedily as though he were a giant popsicle.

“Anything to get out of these stupid heels.”

Gabe waved his hand and the shoes disappeared, bringing Sam down a few inches, though he still towered over the archangel. “You act like this is such a chore for you,” Gabriel muttered, trailing his fingers along the hunter’s side, pulling him closer with a single swift shove. “But I think we both know you crave it. You miss me when I’m gone.” Sam inhaled sharply, and the angel smirked up at him. Sam was taller, bigger, more intimidating in every physical aspect. But there was no contest; Gabriel had power the hunter couldn’t even imagine. The angel was in control. He was always the dominant force.

His hands raked down the curve of Sam’s ass, curling under the black satin skirt to thumb at the waistband of the fishnet stockings. One hand slid around to the front, to palm at the bulge hardening there. Sam pressed subconsciously into the angel’s hand with a soft little sigh. Gabriel grinned. “Oh, you want it. But not yet. This is my game.”

Sam licked his lips and swallowed audibly, wary of what Gabriel’s next request would be.

“Get on your knees.”

Sam could handle that.

So the hunter, still dressed head-to-toe in lace and frills, knelt in front of the archangel, and unzipped Gabriel’s jeans. “Tell me you want it,” the angel commanded, gently but with enough authority for Sam to know it was in his best interest to obey.

Looking up through his mess of hair, Sam murmured, “I want it. I want your cock in my mouth.”

“Good boy.”

Still peering up at the angel’s face, Sam peeled down the hem of Gabriel’s underwear (a speedo, as per the usual), and licked tentatively along the ridge of the angel’s dick. Gabriel gave a little huff of approval and rocked gently forward, encouragingly. With this allowance, Sam wasted no time, sucking the entire length into his mouth in one draw, eliciting a satisfied moan from the angel. Suddenly, he felt Gabriel’s fingers tangle in his hair, the cap having been thankfully mojo’d to God knows where.

“You’re fucking hungry for it, aren’t you, Sammy?” Gabe muttered, fingers clenching in Sam’s hair, shoving the hunter’s face into his crotch. “Fucking starving for my cock in your throat.”

Sam hummed his agreement and Gabe decided to take it as consent to kick things up a notch. He began to buck more forcefully into the hunter’s mouth, drawing back and slamming in so hard he could hear Sam choke a little, could feel Sam’s breath stuttering across the head of his dick.

“You love it. You love being gagged like a fucking cock slut, don’t you, Sam?” Gabriel hissed, between clenched teeth. “I bet you’d let me fuck your face all day if you could.”

Sam pulled away just briefly enough to murmur, “Yeah,” before Gabriel forced his dick back into the hunter’s hot, wet mouth.

“I think you mean ‘yes, sir’.”

Sam nodded, and Gabriel thought he looked utterly gorgeous this way, his hair matting together around his temples, cheeks pink, and lips stretched around the angel’s cock. Sam glanced up at him just for a second, and Gabe could see the hunter’s soft hazel eyes watering, tearing up from the sensation of being gagged. But the hunter didn’t waver, didn’t lose his grip for a moment; his huge hands curled around the angel’s ass, pulling him in, as though he was starving to gather Gabriel up and devour him whole.

“In fact, you’d do just about anything I asked, wouldn’t you?” Gabriel continued, thrusting into the hunter’s throat. His fingernails scraped down the back of Sam’s neck, and Gabriel could feel his orgasm approaching. Sam moaned, sending delicious vibrations up through Gabe’s body. “Such a good little whore, Sammy.”

Sam squeezed the angel’s ass through his jeans and sucked harder. Gabriel groaned, unable to keep from bucking wantonly into Sam’s mouth— he was so close. “ _F-fuck_ , Sam! I’m gonna come, an’ you’re gonna drink it down like the fucking slut you are,” Gabriel mumbled, his words slurring. With one last flick of Sam’s tongue, the angel came, holding Sam’s head to his cock as he emptied himself down the hunter’s throat. Sam took it like a champ, swallowing every drop without so much as a shudder.

Finally, Gabe let the hunter breathe, and Sam wiped his mouth sloppily. Gabriel patted him on the head. “Good boy, Sammy. Very, very good boy.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. So are we done here?” Sam replied icily. Gabriel looked affronted, zipping his jeans and straightening his shirt.

“We might have been, but if you’re gonna get snarky with me you’re gonna have to face the music,” Gabe said, folding his arms across his chest. Sam got to his feet and put his hands on his hips.  _Good try, Samsquatch_ , Gabriel thought.  _But the Paul Bunyan act doesn’t scare me like you think it does_.

“Gabriel, seriously? I’m tired of wearing this crap!” Sam complained. Gabe laughed and snapped his fingers. The entire outfit vanished, leaving Sam utterly naked. The hunter immediately gave a little yelp and struggled to cover himself. Gabriel quirked an eyebrow at him dubiously.

“Really? You’d think by now you’d have stopped being shy in front of me.”

“You could’ve warned me!” Sam snapped. Gabe reached up to cup the hunter’s face, smiling fondly.

“I don’t know why you’re so ashamed,” Gabriel murmured. His thumb grazed along the line of Sam’s left cheekbone. “You’re fucking beautiful, Sam.”

The hunter’s rebuttal died in his throat.

“Now, get in there and let me return the favor,” the angel ordered, grinning.

Sam was in no position to argue.


End file.
